


Heart Shaped Box

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Always Female Sam Winchester, Autism, Autistic Sam Winchester, Awkward Conversations, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, F/M, False Accusations, Father-Daughter Relationship, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, John Winchester Tries, Kinks, Menstruation, Parent/Child Incest, Protective Dean Winchester, Suspicions, Underage Masturbation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-02-13 01:13:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21485890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Akerson is a small town in Pennsylvania that borders Marmet City. It was too big to classify as a village, yet too small to classify as a traditional town. It is three in the morning, Sunday, and John can't stop Samantha from crying.
Relationships: Bobby Singer & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer, John Winchester & Sam Winchester, John Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

I've been locked inside your heart-shaped box for weeks. I've been drawn into your magnet tar pit trap. I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black.

\- Heart Shaped Box (Nirvana)

  
Akerson is a small town in Pennsylvania that borders Marmet City. It was too big to classify as a village, yet too small to classify as a traditional town. It is three in the morning on a Sunday and John can't stop Samantha from crying.

Samantha has always been a fussy baby; even Mary couldn't soothe her when she had one of her fits. It wasn't anything alarming at first because babies cry alot, but Sam isn't a baby anymore. She's almost four years old now, and still hasn't uttered a single word. Just sharp wailing that has seemed to pick up in frequency these past few days.

"Shh, Sam, it's fine. Stop crying kid," John whispers to the young child. "Use your words Sammy, why are you crying hm?"

The girl doesn't answer verbally, just shakes her long brown hair and rubs her tears and snot into John's neck. John sighs sitting on the stiff motel bed. Dean sleeps calmly in the other bed. Soft snores overlap Sam's unconditional sobbing. Dean was never like this when he was almost four; he was always _good_. John has a inkling that because Sam is a _girl _she might be a little more fussy. A little more _different. _

_But deep inside he knows _ _it's not_ _ that._

* * *

The Winchester's visit Pastor Jim for a while.

The Pastor doesn't question John when he shows up on his doorstep. The man does look like shit, and Jim is certain that the hunter feels like it too. John hands a red faced Sam over to the Pastor, and walks straight to the couch where he lays face down. Nursing an obvious headache. Sam is still screaming as Jim glances down giving her a curious look.

Jim closes the front door, and heads over to the kitchen. The house is warm inside. While he offered the crying toddler applesauce, Jim watched the two other Winchester's from across the room. Dean rushes by (taller than the last time he had visited.) In his hands the child clutches two army men.

Dean's clothes are noticeably smaller, and dirtier. Jim makes a mental note to go take Dean to get more suitable clothes down by the donation drive. But, not right now. Right now the Pastor was busy with Sam who was throwing applesauce around.

"Samantha we do not throw things," Jim scolded gently.

Jim later tries icecream, yogurt, strawberries and bananas, but none of these things work to soothe her tantrum. "You aren't hungry Samantha? Then what's wrong then, hm?" Jim hoists Sam up further onto his hip. "Is she sick?" The question is directed at John (who is watching Jim assist Sam, from the couch.)

The man looks away, lips pressed thin and eyes wandering as if lost. "Not that I know of. No fever, no symptoms, nothing." The man mumbles. It's been days of this with little intervals of peace in between the sudden fits. "I would go to the hospital, but..." John grimaces.

"I see," Jim replies carefully, studying the child.

Samantha is red faced and teary eyed she hiccups and sputters against the Pastor's chest. Jim lays his hand on her bundle of matted hair. He grimaced at the knotted up nest. "Did you change her?" Jim asks, eyeing where the girls pull up uncomforably sat. _She should be potty trained by now_ Jim's tone implied.

"Yes, twice," John growls in mild irritation. Dean looks up at Jim, his young green eyes stare up at Jim with such a violent ferocity, but his expression was despairing.

"Is she dying?" Dean asks worriedly, with a childishness to his demeanor. John's face grows stormy.

"No Dean!" John booms, infuriated. Dean shrinks back, attempting to make himself smaller. "She's just—she's gonna be fine!" John isn't very convinced in his own words, Jim can see that. The way John's eyes avert from Samantha's hysterical form. That doubt was all Jim needed to see to know that John was unsure of himself. _Was his youngest dying? What was happening to her?_ John takes Sam from Jim, eyes glassy.

"Then why is she crying like that?" Dean asks, watching his sister flail and sob uncontrollably.

They had no idea.

* * *

Life was laid out in simple terms for Sam.

She knew three people. The older boy, with green eyes. (Sam liked the boys green eyes, cause they weren't yellow or orange.) She also knew the nice older man who talked to Sam about the man in the clouds and the angels that watch over them . Sam wasn't very good with names, but she knew that he was named Jim. Jim was nice, and gives Sam sugary treats.

The other man made Sam cry, cause she never knew what he wanted Sam to do. The man was sad too. Sam knew cause he would cry sometimes when the older boy was away at school. His cries annoyed Sam. Always so loud. 

Sad Man is tired as he holds up the ugly card. "Can you say _Cat, _Sam?"

The girl doesn't care much for the funky little cards with ugly things printed on them. She only cares about the multi-colored blocks laid out on the couch, just out of her reach. As she wanders closer to the blocks, Sad man sits her back down. "Sam. What does this card say?" Sad Man holds up another ugly card.

Sam starts tearing up, because she doesn't care about the stupid cards. She cares about the blocks that Sad Man keeps taking her away from. Sad and _T__ired _Man gives up on the cards and let's Sam play freely with the colorful blocks. Sam smiles, gleefully stacking the blocks. She building a large fortress to show the older boy when he got home. She leaves out the ugly yellow and orange blocks though, cause Sam _hates_ those colors.

When the older boy comes back, he's loud. It hurts Sam's ears so much that she cries. Annoyed by the sound, Sad Man takes her blocks taken away as punishment, which makes her cry harder. She didn't mean to upset the man. 

* * *

The Winchesters stay in Blue Earth for months before John, being _John_, gets into a fight with Jim. Of course the fight is concerning hunting.

"I'm just saying that hunting isn't for you John! You have two kids! What if you get hurt, or worse? They won't have a father anymore," Jim rationalizes, watching John drag a kicking and screaming Sam by her arm. The Pastor watches as John places the toddler in her carseat, and offers her a green block, which calms her cries of absolute terror.

Dean looks vaguely unhappy with his father and how he handles his sister, but the boy puts up a stoic front.

"I have to find the thing that killed Mary, Jim. I can't—I can't just let it go. I don't expect you to understand," John replies, throwing a duffle into the trunk of the Impala.

"You can't even stop to think how this is affecting your children John? What it's going to do to Dean? _Sam?" _John flinches. Jim gives a sympathetic look toward the man. "John, you know just as well as I that Sam could have developmental issues you need—"

"Don't tell me watch I need to do with my kids Jim. I'm fine, Dean is fine and Sam ain't stupid she's just stubborn as Hell," John's voice is dangerous, so Jim doesn't dare argue aginst him. The Pastor watches the Winchester family pull away, and with a heavy heart Jim Murphy goes back inside to his empty and awfully quiet house.

* * *

"Look after Sammy, Dean," These are the words John says to Dean before every hunt, and Dean takes his job seriously.

By Sam's fourth birthday; Dean is a protective and understanding big brother. He understands the food Sam like, he understands that Sam likes the dark rather than the light, and he understands that the girl doesn't take well to new things. She liked routines.

John wishes he was a better father to both of them, but unable to express this he turns to his whiskey for comfort. Most days he's completely out of commission.

Sam says her first few words when John is relatively sober, just a few days before her fifth birthday. "Jo!" She yells one day while John is bathing her. She giggles innocently while John's mind short-circuited. "Ohnn..." She tries again this time she shrinks away, shyly.

John smiles warmly. "You trying to say my name Sam?" The girl giggles, and splashes water at John. "I'll take that as a yes, kid." John drains the water, and wraps Sam in a towel. "Don't want you getting a cold." He whispers, as he dries her off.

"Ohnn!"

"Yeah, Sammy that's me."

When Dean comes home from school, hours later, John watches Sam pull at her brothers legs, and smile up at him. "DE!" She shrieks with laughter. Dean almost drops the large looking book he's holding on his foot. The older boy gets on his knees and picks his sister up.

"Sam! You said my name!"

The Winchesters celebrate with icecream and pizza.

* * *

Sam's fifth birthday comes around, and is spent with applesauce, cupcakes, a botched singing of "Happy Birthday (resulting in a very mad John and Sam have a meltdown), a green racecar from Dean and a ugly tyrannosaurus wrapped in green wrapping paper from John

~

After her birthday, John starts leaving more frequently which prompts questions from Sam, who didn't understand why her _"Ohnn" _was leaving so much now. Dean explains to his sister that they were old enough to take care of themselves, and dad was out saving people. Even though there was no logic behind leaving a five and nine year old by themselves for a extended period of time.

Sam didn't care what the older boy said. She sucked on her two middle fingers worriedly.

"Ohnn. Back?" Dean smiles.

"Dad'll be back soon Sam."

~

Sam's _"Ohnn." _Hasn't come back yet, which was making De mad. He was mad cause when he got her ready for bed everything was wrong. The bathwater was too hot, making Sam's skin burn like acid, then De yelled at Sam and that made Sam feel like she was drowing in tears, cause De never yelled at Sam.

Sam wanted her Ohnn, but it was dark outside and Sam hated the dark so she would sleep and wait until the dark went away.

* * *

Ohnn comes back in the morning smelling like dirt and blood, Sam cries really loud cause she doesn't want Ohnn to leave again, she wants to hug Ohnn, but when she latches onto him he pushes her away and says "Go play." Sam doesn't want to play, she cries louder. She just wants her Ohnn.

Ohnn looks at Sam his own hazel eyes, Sam sees he's tired from the large circles underneath his eyes. "Sam stop crying." Ohnn sighs, collapsing onto the bed, exhausted. "Go play, I'm exhausted."

Sam didn't know what exhausted meant.

"Ohnn, leave?" Sam cries out trying her best with the hard words. "No." Sam's voice is small and empty. She grabs her ugly dinosaur for comfort, and cries harder. Ohnn gets up from the bed, and gives a sad smile.

"Samantha." Ohnn picks Sam up, she holds Ohnn close, and nustle's her head between the crook of his neck. He still smells icky, like blood and dirt. "I won't leave anymore, I promise." De hovers in the doorway, he looks sad. Ohnn hugs him too.

* * *

The Winchester arrive back in Blue Earth three days after Sam's fifth birthday, and this time they stay.

* * *

Sam learned (in this past year and some months) that 'Ohnn" is actually named John, and he's a dad. She also learned De is Dean and he's a brother (but his name is admittedly harder to say). The man that Jim talks to, in the clouds, is named God, and he is suppose to be the dad of everything. Which makes Sam's head hurt when she thinks of it.

The school is big, which makes Sam terrified.

Dean wants to hold Sam's hand as they cross the busy path filled with cars, but Sam doesn't like touching other people, or other people touching her. Sam knows Dean gets mad when Sam flinches away from him and cries, but she can't help it. Dean's touch is like ice, instead of fire. Ice hurts alot. 

She only let's John touch her, cause his touch doesn't feel like a million icey razors stabbing through her body (maybe a slight sting, but Sam can handle that.) Dean compromises, and takes a hold of his sister's dress sleeve. Successfully avoiding a tantrum as they cross the busy parking lot. 

"Are you excited for school Sam?" Dean asks doing that thing with his lips that Sam hates.

"Yes," Sam answers Dean shyly, looking down at her powder blue shoes, light up shoes. They light up when you jump!

~

Ms. Olson is Sam's teacher. She has short dark curly hair, and lovely brown skin. She's wearing a blue dress like Sam. Dean walks up to her, holding onto Sam's sleeve tight. Ms. Olson only smiles at the odd display. "This my new student, Samantha right?" Dean nods, but he isn't smiling.

"She goes by Sam, she likes blue and green. She may have trouble communicating, but you just have to be patient and listen to what she's saying. She doesn't like being touched. She's really smart and shouldn't have any problems with the material. I'm Dean, her brother. If you have any problems I'm in Ms. Studeva's class down the hall." Ms. Olson doesn't get a word in as Dean let's go of his sister's sleeve, and hands her a army man.

"Be good today Sammy," Dean warns as he leaves the class. Sam looks at the ground, overwhelmed by the new change. Ms. Olson looks at Sam and breathes, very slowly. Which made Sam giggle. Ms. Olson made an odd expression.

"Hello, Sam. Can you sit at the ladybug table?" Sam only nods, but doesn't move. Olson was about to direct her to the table, but realized what Sam's brother had said about touch. "Sam, sit at the ladybug table, right here please." Ms. Olson taps on the solid wood, and Sam walks over to the seat and sits.

The lights are too bright they sting and hurt. Sam whines, annoyed at the faint buzzing in the vents and the _too-bright _lights of the classroom. The army man reminds Sam of home, or Jim, Dean and John. Sam wants to go home, she also wants the buzzing to stop. 

Ms. Olson doesn't seem to notice it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What are you trying to say?" 
> 
> "I'm saying, Sam's a little slower than Dean ever was, John. She shouldn't be getting hit for being different. She should be getting checked up on by a professional—"
> 
> "My daughter isn't your concern Bobby! She's fine."

The kids knew something was wrong with Sam before they even entered the classroom. They all cram into the small classroom, bustling with light hearted laughter. Much too loud for Sam's liking.

They push and shove eachother becoming a blur of blue, green, white, pink and— ew, orange backpacks. Sam didn't like that girl's bag. It was an ugly bright orange that hurt Sam's eyes when Sam looks at it.

The orange bag girl sits next to Sam at the ladybug table.

"Ugly," Sam whispers to the girl (avoiding her imperious gaze by staring at the blue dress fabric John dressed her in today). The girl looks up, not expecting the perceived insult.

"What?" She asks, eyebrows pulled down into a angry expression. The expression that Dean makes when Sam steals his things and breaks them. Sam hides behind her shaggy brown hair, shyly. Sam whispers the "insult" again, not intending to sound mean, or make the orange-bag girl angry.

"Ugly. Not like blue," Sam replies, her voice sounding loud in her own ears. The orange was gross, it should be a less ugly color. Like blue! The girl is making a disgusted face at Sam as she pulls out a pack of glittery pens.

"You're mean," The girl huffs and starts chewing on her heart-shaped necklace. "...And weird," She adds. Sam looks down at her table, sad. She didn't feel weird. She was just trying to help the orange-bag girl.

~~

Lunch is okay. Recess is bad.

Dean can't come outside today, because he has to serve a 'lunch detention' and Sam can't go, cause it's something only sixth graders get. _Big kids._

"Hey, retard." The boy is older than Sam, like Dean. A big kid. He's bigger, and meaner than Dean ever is. "What's wrong with you?" The boy asks, pushing Sam onto the rocks. The dirty bits of the playground pit cling to her dress and Sam shrieks. John gave her this dress. It's her favorite. Sam cries, the mean older boy cackles like a villain on TV.

Another boy laughs, pointing at Sam.

"Stupid bitch." He jeers.

Bitch. Bitch. That's an angry word. Something that is bad to say. The boy makes a fist and threatens to punch Sam, and laughs when the girl flinches. "Fucking idiot."

Sam pulls her hair and cries. The boys are laughing again. It hurts.

~~

John is safe to Sam. Sometimes he smells like liquor and cigarette smoke from the bar. But Sam doesn't really mind the smell, because it smells like her John. Unique to him, and only him. It's familliar, and Sam likes familiarity.

"Sammy, you have to sleep in your own bed." John says one night. His voice tired and heavy.

"Mh, no," Sam whispers low in her throat, pressing her face into John's neck. "Safe, with John." John relaxes, letting his babygirl cling to him all she wants, not having the heart to kick her out.

"Okay," He mutters into her thick brown hair. She smells like that peach shampoo she has been using since she was three, and Colgate toothpaste. "Just tonight, then you have to go sleep in your own room, Okay?"

"K," Sam softly replies, letting her hands wander to find John's scruffy cheeks. "Tickles."

~~

Bobby Singer is a nice, older man. He comes around every once in a while. Sam likes Bobby, cause he makes good PB&J sandwiches and likes listening to Sam. Dean says Sam met Bobby when she was really little, but Sam doesn't really remember.

It's a Saturday afternoon when the older man drops by for one of his visits. Dean is ecstatic, greeting the man at the door. Immediately, they engage in a lengthy conversation about cars. Sam isn't really paying attention, cause she's got to pee really bad.

John is on the couch nursing his third beer, staring blankly at the TV, and Jim is in the kitchen.

"—Yeah! Dad says baby is all mine when I get older! He says that I'm getting good at taking care of cars the right way!" Dean beams, ranting to the man.

"Really now? Bobby chuckles, "Ain't that a great idea. God knows how much you love that car, boy."

"I know, right!"

John nods at Bobby. "Hey, Bobby," John says, his dimples revealing themselves as his lips curl into a charming smile. "How've you been?"

"Couple of hunters got cornered by some black eyes a few days ago. Three of 'em came back the rest..." Bobby looks at the kids grimly, and shakes his head. John gets the message, drinking from the bottle he cradled delicately in his hands.

"Damn."

The gruff man looks down at a squirming Sam. "Hey Sam, yer lookin' taller, pipsqueak."

Sam wants to smile and wave at the man, but her bladder is too distracting. She's scared to get up and go to the bathroom by herself, the toilet is loud, it scares her.

Bobby takes one look at Sam's pout and knows the girl is in a bad mood. "What's wrong Sam?" Bobby asks the girl, Sam shakes her head adjusting her position for the fifth time. "You alright?" Sam bites her lip in shame as her Jean's stick to her, wet and soggy.

"Sam!" John roars, the puddle spreading across the floor. "How many fuc—times have I told you!" The man abandons the bottle, reaching forward he grabs Sam by the wrist, harshly. Bobby feels his heart sink at the sight of a crying Sam and an enraged John.

"Sorry!" Sam cries out, clawing at her father's hand. "Sorry, John, sorry!"

Jim tries to intervene, "John." He says, calmly. "She didn't mean too I'll clean it up—"

"No," John grits out. "She has to learn."

The man leads the girl to the other room, and closes the side door. The silence is thick. Until, it is broken by the devastating sound of a belt meeting fragile flesh. "No!" Sam cries out from the other side of the door, and Bobby wishes he could go in there and kick John's ass.

Bobby flinches at the sound of the sobbing girl. Pastor Jim presses his lips thin, just as conflicted on what to do. This isn't the first time John has taken his belt to Sam while Bobby was visiting, and it won't be the last.

~~

Sam goes to sleep against John's side, after her whooping. Her breathing is sticky, as she snores. Bobby looks at the girl with concern in his eyes. John rests his hand on her lower back, and lets her snuggle up against him. The air is tense.

"John can I talk to you?" Bobby asks, with a chilled tone. John looks up from the TV, and nods. He adjusts Sam's laying position and meets Bobby in the guest bedroom.

The door shuts, and Bobby crosses his arms over his chest, watching John with an analytical eye.

"You shouldn't be whooping your girl like that." John rolls his eyes childishly. The man straightens his posture trying to seem taller than he truly is.

"I wasn't _whooping _her. I gave her a punishment for being an ass." Bobby tsks with his tongue. 

"Bullshit, Winchester." John takes a step forward, trying to intimidate Bobby. But the man wasn't scared of John fucking Winchester.

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying, Sam's a little slower than Dean ever was, John. She shouldn't be getting hit for being different. She **should **be getting checked up on by a professional—"

"My daughter isn't your concern Bobby! She's fine."

"It damned well is my concern! 'Specially with you taking your belt to her everytime she breathes! She can't help the way she is!"

"I don't have to listen to this!"

"You're a stubborn bastard, John Winchester. You know that right?"

~~

"It's bedtime Sam."

Sam blinked at her brother. Dean, who stood in front of her seemed silly in that moment. It wasn't time for bed yet. 

Dean must have known what Sam was thinking, because he gave his sister a stern expression. Sam, however, still shook her head indignantly, because she knew she was correct. She still had a few hours left until bedtime. Bedtime is always at eight-thirty-three p.m!

"Now, Sam."

"No!" She throws one of her blocks at him, the one with the _moo_ on it, which was fine for Sam since she really didn't like moo's— cows— much anyways. The milk John makes her drink is gross anyways.

"Sam!" Dean shouts. "Don't throw things! Come on time for bed."

"No!"

It takes Jim and Dean, twenty-five mintues to subdue Sam long enough to get her upstairs and into the bedroom. Even then, she thrashes against the bed until she grows tired and limp against the bed. Jim dismisses Dean, knowing the boy wanted to read his comics before doing his homework.

"Thanks, Pastor Jim," Dean mumbles, giving his sister a kiss on her sweat slicked forehead, before heading out of the dark room.

Jim turns back to Sam, he changes her into her pajamas, careful not to make skin to skin contact, lest he wants another meltdown. "Okay, gently now, Samantha. I won't hurt you." The girl is limp like a rag doll, her breathing deep and relaxed. Jim gets her pants off first, and then her shirt, his movements mechanical.

"Alright," Jim sighs, sitting on the edgeof the bed, bringing forth the bible, to a random proverb that was only dimly lit at his side by the butterfly shaped nightlight. Jim reads the words smoothly in a comforting manner. "He that walketh uprightly, walketh surely: but he that perverteth his ways shall be know..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what's I'm doing people :V   
Make sure to frequently check the tags for updated versions. Unbetaed so all mistakes are my own 👁👄👁


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's John's birthday today. Sam knows it's John's birthday because Bobby said so.

John is a car doctor. When cars get sick they come and see him. John works on cars at a place called an "autoshop" this is his job. Sometimes people get jobs when they grow up. Sam doesn't like when John works. He comes home late, smelling like motor oil and cigarettes. It's a change that Sam hates, worse than the color orange....

And worse than peas.

Sam stares at the green mush in disdain. Broccoli is nice, not like greasy burgers. Peas are nasty, like eating spoiled milk, _yuck_. The plate is smeared with the green paste, an unappetizing display.

"Just eat the fucking food Sam!" John yells, losing his temper and smashing the plate to the ground, enraged. "It's not that fucking hard, you just—" John grits his teeth.

Sam slaps her hands on her face, and ears.

"No, no, no..." She repeats rhythmically. "Too loud, Johnnn," Sam whines out. John sighs, rubbing a calloused hand over his face. The man looks defeated.

"Sam, just eat so I can give you a bath and we both can sleep," John explains as calm as possible, reaching forward to caress Sam's cheek. Sam shrinks away from the man. John looks hurt by this, retracting his extended hand. "Sam? What is it?" John asks, perplexed at the girls withdrawal.

Sam looks at her John and shamefully counts to herself. "5...10...15...20....25..." John shakes his head, annoyed by the counting. "30...35...40..."

"Sam? Talk to me. "

"John's mean, cause John smells like liquor," Sam blurts out. John is taken back by this.

"Sammy." He whispers, dejected. "I'm sorry." The man hangs his head, Sam pouts not meaning to upset John. The man wipes tears from his eyes, laughing as if reminding himself of something funny. "I'm so sorry," John apologizes.

Sam shakes her head, fluffy bangs obscuring her vision. Peas forgotten, Sam tried wiping at John's cheeks herself. "John, no crying!" Sam sobs, wrapping her arms around his neck. John, taken by suprise, wraps his arms around the girls tiny waist. "Sam's sorry, John." She sobs wetly into his neck.

John pats her back. "It's okay Sammy."

* * *

  


Bobby Singer has dealt with a lot of shit in his day, but John Winchester? Was on a whole 'nother plane of shit.

The man lost his wife to a demon years ago. Bobby still remembers that shell of a man standing on his front porch, soaking wet. With a sick six year old Dean, holding a crying two year old Sam.

_"Are you Bobby Singer?"_

_"No absolutely not, Jim said nothing about any rugrats." _

Bobby, watches Jim and Dean bustle around the kitchen preparing a cake for the older Winchester, trying to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to wake him accidentally. Jim takes the cake out, while Dean gets out the cake decorations.

"Bobby, would you wake up Sam and bring her out to decorate the cake, while Dean and I get stuff from the car?" Jim asks, politely.

Bobby snorts at the priest. "Sure thing, Father." He says comically, walking up toward the rooms. He opens the door to Dean and Sam's room, only finding no Sam. Bobby feels a panic come over him before realizing John's door was slightly ajar. Pushing past the kid's room he opens John's door.

Inside, Sam lay tucked in her father's warmth. John has his arms hugged around the tiny girl, protectively. She's only wearing faded grey panties and a short sleeved green shirt. He's in his boxers. Something about the image sets alarm bells off in Bobby's head.

"Sammy," Bobby whispers. "Wake up."

* * *

  


It's John's birthday today. Sam knows it's John's birthday because Bobby said so. It's also a Saturday morning, and suprisingly rainy outside despite it being an early Summer. Sam is icing the cake Dean and Jim had made. It's a darker blue, John's favorite color. Bobby watches the girl, with a heavy stare. He changed her into some more appropriate clothes.

"Do you think your daddy will like it?" Bobby asks, gruff, from the kitchen island. Sam nods curtly, hiding shyly behind her thick bangs that desperately needed a trim. Of course he will, it's blue and cake.

Bobby sighs. "Sam...put down the icing real quick." Sam gives Bobby an irritated look— one she learned from Dean— but the girl complied, placing the blue tipped icing on the counter, before turning toward the older man. Bobby, breathes, "John, he's good to you and your brother right?" The older man asks.

Sam doesn't really know what Bobby is asking. "Yes." Her voice is small, barely recognizable. Bobby nods.

"He doesn't—" Bobby squints at Sam, suspiciously. "He hasn't _touched _you? In a bad way? When you're alone together?"

Sam shrinks away. Her eyes drift to the icing, longingly. "Cake?" She asks innocently, turning back to face the hunter. Bobby shakes his head getting down to her level.

"Sam? Are you going to answer my question?"

Sam shakes her head in irritation, clapping as if to drown out a noise only she heard. "Sam doesn't understand Uncle Bobby!" Bobby gets up, looking at Sam as if she grew an extra head. Sam pouts.

"You can go back to icing the cake now, girl"

~

"I'm telling you, Jim," Bobby whispers to the man, low in his throat not wanting to direct any unwanted attention toward them. "The way John acts with Sam... It ain't right."

Jim eyes Bobby sympathetically, as if the man was nothing but a paranoid bastard. "How does he act with her, Bobby?" Bobby steps closer, sharing a secret like a teenaged girl. Reluctant, Jim leans in to comply.

"This morning, I went to wake Sam up and..." Bobby stops, a sudden haze filling his eyes. Jim places a hand on the hunter's shoulder, anchoring him. Bobby continues. "...John was in his boxers, Sam in the bed with him half...Naked." Jim shakes his head in disbelief.

"Bobby, John isn't the type of man to do the things you imply."

"He already hits her. _Beats_ her. More than he does Dean... What if he's hurting her _that_ way too. What if that's why she is the way she is?" Jim shakes his head, it's too much of a reach. Jim has know John longer than Bobby. Yes, The man agrees John shouldn't hit his children with belts, and has a serious problem with drinking.

But bad touching Sammy? No. Never.

* * *

  


"I think Sammy's Autistic," Dean says one day, after another painful session of trying to get Sammy to bed earlier than she usually goes to bed. John places his bottle of Jack on the side table next to the couch.

"Sammy's fine, kiddo—"

"No she's not," Dean snaps. John looks bewildered for a moment, before his expression turns cold.

"What?" John hisses, rising to his feet. Dean takes a step back, fiddling his fingers.

"With all due respect, _Sir_. Sammy wasn't out of diapers until she was six, she didn't talk until she turned five. Sam doesn't know how change herself, she doesn't like people touching her, except you. She doesn't like loud noises or lights, and she needs someone to help her to the bathroom. She eats only five? Different foods."

"She repeats things, **alot**. She has watched the same episode of Wild Things thirty-three time's since it first aired. She has to eat at five-fifty five p.m everyday, or she throws a fit. She has to sleep at eight 'o eight p.m, or she throws a fit. She doesn't like when people move things around. When Jim got a new carpet she banged her head against the wall until she started bleeding."

John doesn't talk, unclenching his hands, he collapses back onto the couch "I don't know what to do." John mumbles. Dean nods sordidly, taking out a piece of paper from his back pocket, and handing it to his dad.

"I talked to my teacher, and a few of my friends. This doctor specializes in developmental disorders. She'll screen Sammy for free." Dean says the words mechanically, as if rehearsed in front of the mirror for hours. John looks at Dean's stony expression, before taking the slip of paper into his own hands. "Just one look into this and we'll know for sure, dad."

~~

Sam likes the sterile smell of the office. She likes the white of the walls and the grey of the floor. John is holding her hand, warm and rough. The woman at the desk smiles widely at them. Her desk decorated with stickers.

"You must be Samantha." Sam's ears tint a subtle pink. She was only Samantha when she was in trouble. Sam looks up at John, hiding behind him shyly. The woman makes a "ooing" noise from her mouth. She sounds like a bird. "Dr.Ellis is just behind those big blue doors, can't miss them."

John smiles, tiredly. "Come on Sam." Sam obligates, holding her John's hand tight. Afraid of being separated. The doors are heavy when they shut, behind them is another long hallway leading to a smaller door. John knocks on this door.

"Come in!" A voice calls out. John paused, looking down at Sam cautiously before he opens the door. Inside is a petite woman, with slivery hair, red lips and a pointed noise. Her eyes are soft. "Ah, hello I am Doctor Ellis you must be the father, John?"

John shakes the woman's hand with his unoccupied hand. "Yes. This is Sam." John pries the girl from his side and gently nudges her forward. Dr. Ellis nods. Sam likes this room, it's quiet, but with enough noise to preoccupy the space. The lights are dimmed, enough where you can see, but where they don't hurt.

"Please, sit." The woman gestures to two comfortable chairs. John sits in the chair at the left of the desk. Sam, with her gangly limbs, climbs over the other chair and into John's lap. John winces uncomfortably.

"Sorry, She gets a little clingy whenever she's in a new situation. Samantha can you _stop?_" John tries to get the girls cold and clammy hands away from his neck, but to no avail. Finally, he stops trying. Dr.Ellis puts on some glasses and writes some things down.

"It's perfectly normal for any child to cling to their parents when they don't want to have any part in something." Dr.Ellis, waves at Sam. "Hello, Sam." Dr. Ellis looks back at John. "Can she speak?"

"Yes. Talk to her Sam." 

"Hi," Sam said. Voice barely heard. Dr.Ellis nods once again, scribbling something.

"Do you like books Sam, what about toys? Anything?"

"Sam likes the 'pala." Dr.Ellis veers over to John hoping for an explanation. John smiles so hard his dimples show, it's a pretty sight.

"It's a car, 1964 Chevy Impala."

"Sam likes green, and Jim and De and Bobby...And my John." Sam peers at the woman. Dr.Ellis puts down her notebook.

"Your John?" Dr.Ellis queries. Sam nods, sullenly as if she said something wrong. "Sam, go play with some toys over in that area."

Sam hesitates, but listens to the directive, climbing off John and going to play with the stackable blocks. Dr.Ellis turns back to the tired man.

"I can't give you a definitive answer, but I'm sure Sam _is _on the spectrum. I would like to do a few more tests to be sure where she falls. Girls are more difficult to diagnose than boys, but I need you to bring Samantha back."

~

It takes four months to figure out Sam is a high functioning autistic (in the mid to mild range) During this time, Sam just turns eight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bobby is kinda...oof. Honestly, this chapter kicked my ass not gonna lie.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam sobs. "John..." 
> 
> "Sammy? What's wrong?" 
> 
> "My tummy."

It's late. Sam should be asleep, yet like clockwork the girl appears on the side of John's bed, eyes lucid with tears. Her form shakes. Awfully long hair and rapidly changing limps passionately tremble before John. The man wants to turn the girl away to her own bed— but... No he can do this.

Sternly, John looks over to his daughter. He wasn't sleeping anytime soon anyway.

"What is it Sammy?" The man queries, prompting more tears from Sam. John waits as patiently as possible, before sighing and grabbing child's lithe wrist. Sam whimpers, but does not display discomfort. "Did you piss the bed again, girl?" John questions, as he tugs her onto the bed, breathing in her minty scent that had a milky sort of undertone to it.

She oddly still smells like a baby, even though she's just turned eight a few months ago. The scent is nauseatingly nostalgic. The memories it brings of a shrieking baby Samantha aren't bad, but are unwarranted.

"My tummy's angry," Sam finally whispers, her breath warm and tentative against John's ear. The older man runs a hand over her clothed stomach. His wedding band blinks at him in the pale moonlight. 

"Your tummy?"

Sam nods curling closer into her father's warm arms. John runs his hand's through the girl's hair. There is something else. "Is that it, baby?" John prompts. It takes Sam several minutes before she shakes her head, no. John looks at the girl curiously, but doesn't pressure her knowing the added stress with only take her longer to tell him what's really wrong.

"My chest hurts..."

John is concerned now. He gets up, turning on the lamp. Sam shifts so that her feet dangle from the edge of the bed, ashamed and quite frightened.

"I'm in trouble?" Sam's limpid hazel eyes watch John's tired face for any reaction. 

John shakes his head. "No, Sammy, baby. I need to know there isn't anything wrong that we might have to go to the hospital to fix." Sam knows, seemingly understanding. John shuffles forward, his hand paws her chest, worriedly. He feels nothing that might be a wound or something concerning.

Until—

John reels back, almost hitting the lamp and knocking himself out. The sound is loud, but not loud enough to wake anyone up.

Sam starts crying immediately. "Shhh!" John snaps, crawling back to Sam and hopping on the bed. Once on the bed, he cradles her. "It's okay Sam. Shh."

Once lulled, John looks down at the generic, oversized dinosaur shirt Sam is wearing. Nothing stands out, but John could swear— "Sam can I check underneath your shirt?" Sam nods calmly. The tip of her thumb slipping into her mouth quietly. John adjusts them so John is sitting at the edge of the bed and Sam's head is leaning back on his shoulder. The girl gasps as her shirt is pulled up, revealing her chest to the chilled room.

"Cold! John!" Sam scolds. John apologizes with a kiss to her temple. Sam giggles, cause his scruff tickles. John returns to his task. The man can see clearly now, the buds growing on his daughters chest. A bit red, indicating a tenderness as her breasts are beginning to form on her chest. John can't help but rub at the sensitive bud. Sam whines lowly.

"Daddy!"

"Sorry, Sammy." John takes a closer look at the girl's chest. Watching it rise and fall, with a hypnotic look to it. "God, Sammy," John breathes. The warmth of his mouth tickling Sam's chest. Sam whines, moving away from the touch.

"Bad?" Sam asks, childishly. John smiles, shaking his head.

"Just means you're growing up."

~~

John doesn't touch the subject with a six foot pole. At least he tries not to.

It's a few weeks later when everything goes shitty. Sam and John are watching The Lion King on the couch, when Sam starts complaining about her chest hurting again. It's Jim who walks by overhearing the girl's cry of pain.

"Your _chest_ hurts Samantha?" Jim eyes the girl and her father wearily from a safe distance.

"Hmmh!" Sam hums adjusting her head on John's lap. The pastor watches John, waiting for an input. John doesn't explain, feeling as if he doesn't have to. "Why does her Chest hurt Joh—" John slams his hand on the couch, jousting Sam from her position on his lap.

"Nothing. She's just—" John sighs, running a hand down his face. "It's nothing."

* * *

It's a few months later when Bobby comes to visit that John can't ignore it anymore. They're in the livingroom again, this time Dean is talking to Jim about finally making the football team at school. John looks at Dean, from the corner of his eye, and just feels _hurt_. The boy looks just like his mother everyday. Just like John's Mary.

The boy is also at the mercy of puberty. His voice cracking at random intervals, his appetite never ceasing and his moods changing on a drop of a dime.

Bobby arrives not long after everyone settles into a calm. The hunter is gruff and careless with his attitude, but he's good people. _Mostly_. He greets John with a strained smile, adjusting his Cap, as his form takes up the space in the doorway.

"Uncle Bobby!" Dean yells, running toward the man. "I made the football team!"

"Well, ain't that something, kid." The man reaches forward tussling with Dean a bit. "Proud of you, you little shit." The hunter's proud smile churns John's stomach. Bobby looks at the floor near the TV, greeted by a melancholic Sam. He steps up to the lanky girl, and offers her a ruby red lollipop.

Sam takes the offering with no hesitation. 

"Hi, Sam"

"Hi, Bo!" Sam waves, doing her best to mimic Bobby's smile, even with her missing front tooth. Most of Sam's adult teeth were already filling her mouth, but a few baby teeth straggle around. It's when Sam sits up that Bobby grows almost pale. He looks at Sam's chest for a few beats, before turning away. Looking at John almost accusingly.

"John." He hisses, motioning obviously toward Sam and making a cupping motion with his own flat chest. John feels the frustration creep along his spine. His pulse jumps with red anger.

"I know." He replies to the man, fairly calm in his tone.

"And you ain't done nothing about it, you idjit?" Bobby criticizes immediately. "I can see em through her shirt, she needs a training bra."

John grits his teeth, placing his head in his hands and just breathing for a minute. It's too much for him. He wishes he had a beer. He wishes he didn't have to go through all this with Sam. He wishes he had Mary to do all the hard puberty shit with her.

"Dad?" Dean enters the room carefully, his eyes analyzing the situation. "Is everything okay?" The stairs creak under the unwanted attention. Dean's freckles skip in the shitty light and his eyes wander aimlessly.

"We were just—" John and Bobby look Bobby eachother simultaneously, searching for an excuse. Bobby steps into the living room fully, and clears his throat.

"Discussing your sister." He finishes the sentence. Dean pouts brows furrowed. His hand grabs the railing tight enough to where his knuckles turn white. He watches his sister worriedly from his place by the stairs.

"Everything okay with her?"

"She's fine, sport." John gives Dean a lopsided smile, and subtly glares at Bobby. "I'll take her to get one next Saturday, that okay with you?" John whispers. Bobby looks at the girl and huffs, nothing along with John.

"Yes, Winchester."

* * *

Sam is looking at all the clothes in the store. There must be hundreds. Sam unsually isn't allowed in places such as the mall (which Sam learns is a collection of stores grouped tightly in different areas). Sam holds John's hand tight, despite his protests. The store they enter together is brightly lit and girlish. Some "Pop music trash" as Dean calls it, plays over the speaker in a low register.

"Come on," Jobn grumbles, visually angry. He grips Sam a bit too tightly, dragging her deeper into the girly store. Sam whines. 

The cashier is a stout woman, with a lovely smile, she also smells like flowers. Sam likes flowers. "Hello," The woman greets, seeing the distraught tired look in John's eyes. "I'm Kathie, you guys need any help?"

John doesn't want help, but he is _lost. _Reluctantly, he shuffles forward. Dragging his feet. Sam giggles behind her hand, cause she thinks it's funny. "Uh...I'm looking for training bras?" Kathie's bright eyes go sympathetic, and gooey.

"Of course, there's some right down this way." Kathie points past the dresses and toward the back wall.

"Thank you," John sighs.

* * *

Ellen is a woman.

Sam doesn't know many women. Ellen has a daughter, Jo. Sam doesn't like Jo. She's loud, and she give John werid looks. She also has a huge C-R-U-S-H on Dean. Crush, that's a word Sam learned from the kids on the playground.

Bobby has a Crush on Ellen, too. Sam hates crushes, cause they make people act weird. Sam looks at John curiously as he tries to engage in a pleasant conversation with Ellen and Bobby. He smiles cheerlessly, eyes flicking between the two of them like ping pong balls. Sam wonders if John has a crush. Sam sets her blocks to the side of the bar.

"John?" She asks tugging on his sleeve. John nods politely at the two, before looking at his side where Sam hides shyly. "Crush?" She whispers, not liking the alert attention both Bobby and Ellen were giving her.

"What Sam?" John queries. He's confused. He doesn't understand. Sam's bottom lip quivered, John knows a meltdown is coming any second now, and he's afraid.

"Crushes? Crush?" John shakes his head, still confused. Sam punches his arm, hard. Angry at the man for being so dumb. "Dumby, Dumbass, stupid BITCH!" Sam punches the man again, this time with absolute fury.

"Sam! Don't do that!" John shouts, stopping the girl's attack. Yet, Sam still finds a way to break free and bite John hard on his shoulder. "FUCK!" He hollers, pushing the girl back off him. Sam almost cracks her skull on the bar. Barely missing the hard edge. Ellen witnesses Sam's meltdown, watching pitifully.

Dean is at his father's side in mintues, trying to calm Sam as John runs to the bathroom to clean out the flesh wound Sam gave him. "Sammy," The twelve year old whispers to his sister. "You can't do this. You hurt dad." Sam stops fighting, going rigid with realization.

"De..." Sam mutters. "Daddy's hurt?"

"Yeah Sam, you can't hurt people when the don't understand." Dean nuzzles Sam, as she sobs hard into his shoulder.

* * *

Sam doesn't have another meltdown like the one at the Roadhouse until two years later.

Dean is fourteen, already filling out and becoming a shadow of John. With the same terrible fashion, and same music taste. Dean is drifting away, further and further away from Sam and John. Wanting nothing to do with his fucked over family. He's a freshman in highschool, the big leagues. He has a reputation to manage.

He doesn't spend as much time and energy with Sam anymore, too busy with friends and football practice.

Sam is ten. Still lanky and awkward, but with shorter, manageable hair. She looks more like John than Mary at this age. With an slightly upturned nose, hazel eyes and sun kissed skin.

It's only John and Sam at the house. Sam looks at the plate in front of her with disgust, she pushes the plate away, wrapping an arm around her stomach and thudding her head against the table. John frowns.

"Sammy, head up off the table. We have to leave soon." John watches the girl from his side of the table. She doesn't attempt to move. John sighs, reaches across the table and shaking the girl by her arm. "Sam. Now," John commands, dangerously. The girl doesn't even twitch. "Sam." He says softly, coming around the table to shake the girl.

Sam sobs. "John..."

"Sammy? What's wrong?"

"My tummy."

Her stomach? Is there a stomach bug going around? John runs Sam's back soothingly. "Damn. I have to be in the shop by nine," John whispers to himself. He can't spend all day taking care of Sam if she's sick. Jim won't be back 'til tomorrow and Bobby is on a hunt with someone named Caleb.

"Go lay down, you aren't going to school today." John points at the stairs. Sam obliges.

~~

John sighs, tossing his phone on the couch. Well, at least he doesn't have to come in today. The man staggers upstairs to his bed, not shocked to see Sam there curled in his blankets, as if embracing him. John lays down next to his daughter, watching her breathing even out and deepen as she falls asleep.

He should get some more sleep too.

~~

Sam is screaming. John can hear Mary's screams. Can only think of burning flesh and blood, and fire.

"Sam?!" John panics, looking over at the side of the bed where Sam orginally was. A rusty red color decorates the bed. It's blood, a puddle of it where Sam was. John looks over at Sam.

The girl is a mess; curled on the floor, sobbing. The first thing John thinks is who hurt his baby, the second thing is how to get Sam up and into the car so he can take her to the hospital. "Sammy?" John asks again, meeting the girl on the floor. "What's wrong? Where are you hurt?"

"I'm dying! Im dying!" Sam claws at her throat. John prys both of her hands away from her. Stopping her from hurting herself any further. Sam thrashes, kicking out in a panic.

"Sammy. You have to tell me where you're hurting," John pleas.

"My teddy!" Sam snaps.

John goes cold. "Teddy" is what Sam calls her privates. She started doing that when she was seven, and never stopped. _Who do __I__ have to kill? _John thinks, already plotting murder.

It takes John much too long to realize what was _actually _happening.

"Shit," John mumbles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated :V


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He notices the fever between them; the disease. It's subtle, almost undetectable.

It's something feverish that spreads between the two of them like a lethal disease. Something recognizable, but disregarded. Dean still has a slight buzz from last night, he wanders into the kitchen looking for pills. He shuts the cabinet door, and opens another one.

"Where the fuck—"

Dean slams the cabinet again causing his own head to ache in retaliation. He finds nothing but canned goods, stupid fucking canned good! The teen throws the cans of mandarin oranges down. Sam flinches. Dean watches her from his peripheral vision. She's doing homework on the island counter and her face is fucked. Black and blue from where the belt struck her last night.

Dean snorts. Not cause he thinks it's funny. Just because it's sad. He wants his father to belt him. He want's to feel the rage in those blows. He deserves it more. The older boy walks by, flicking the edge of her paper with his finger.

"Hey, fuckface."

Sam is twelve, just barely surviving seventh grade. She's eating jelly sandwiches with the crusts cut off, for breakfast. Her brown hair is tied back into a manageable ponytail and her eyes are shifting around the room, trying to avoid all eye contact. She looks like Dad.

Dean hardly notices her anymore. It hurts too much. Thinking about how _different_ Sam is, and how much attention she requires from dad. When Dean does notice her it's to throw milk at her from the back of a friends car, or talk shit about her when he's high off his ass with friends at some undisclosed location. It's easier that way.

But he notices her now, because he notices the fever between them; the disease. It's subtle, almost undetectable.

Dean sees it, When his father walks in, all marked up from where Sammy beat his ass. The man smells like motor oil and cheap liquor. He's reading something trivial on the newspaper. Probably something stupid that happened because it's "Halloween" or so according to John.

The man looks up from the paper and smiles at Sam like they picked dandelions together last night, and ate sunshine out of eachothers asses.

"Sammy? You alright?" John asks his youngest, petting her softly on her milky exposed thigh. Planting a kiss on her cheek too uncomfortably close to her lips. Sam blinks, eyes finally focusing as she registers the touch. She smiles warmly at her father.

"The leaves are red. I don't like red."

John nods, pressing a kiss to the girl's temple this time. "I know, baby"

Dean feels sick. His stomach churns, unpleasantly.

"Dad," Dean blurts out almost reflexively. John turns, his hazel eyes finding their way to his son.

"Yeah, Dean?"

The sixteen year old blanches, eyes going between his little sister and father, panicky. "Are...you...." Dean swallows thickly too scared to speak. "Is Sam okay?" John quirks an eyebrow. He looks at his daughter and nods.

"Yes? I mean I hope so. Is everything okay with you, boy?" Dean nods, looking at his sister with a sudden overbearing sense of dread and loss of everything.

"Everything's fine sir. I—I'm...I'm going to be at the mall with Katie Kwon and her friends afterschool. Is that okay?"

"Don't stay out too late. It's Halloween."

Dean nods. He feels a guilt in his gut about not being there enough for his sister, but it doesn't stop him from walking out the door.

* * *

"Babe, you okay?" Katie asks. Katie Kwon is a student council girl. She doesn't particularly like or dislike Dean.

Dean reaches up, grabbing her soft round thighs, but stops. It reminds Dean too much of what happen this morning. Katie whines about the withdrawal, but Dean can't hear her. He peers up. Past the trees, and at the moon. It's probably midnight by now. The girl adjusts her position above him and Dean groans like a dead man.

"Talk to me Dean," Katie whispers low into his ear. Dean nuzzles her, she smells like expensive perfume.

Dean shakes his head along her neck. "My Dad's being an ass to my baby sister, beating the shit outta her with his belt. Drunk bastard..." Katie tilts her head, inquisitively. Her arms snake around her lover's neck like a vice.

"The _retard_?" Katie laughs, shaking the trees and the air around her. Dean watches the girl with disgust.

"Her name is Sammy—" Dean starts. Unconventionally angry at the girl's choice words. He has more to say, but Katie silences him with a confident kiss. Dean hums to himself. The bitch tastes like cherry, and he loves cherry. They pull apart, breathing quickened.

"Just forget about all that."

Dean wants to, but—

"I have to go—" Dean reaches over grabbing his old leather jacket, and kisses Katie. "Uh..." The teen gets up, looking around casually. "Raincheck?" Dean smiles innocently, like a cereal box boy, and Katie can't help but fall victim to Winchester charm.

"Mmmhm, I'll be waiting Dean Winchester."

* * *

Sammy is screaming about taking a bath again. Jim is trying to calm her down, but she's still screaming. Dean can't handle it. Sammy used to like baths, Dean remembers. She used to like the warm water and the bubbles.

"Samantha, you havent taken one in three days. I think it's time—"

"Nonononono! Jim!"

"Samantha you have to."

"No I don't!"

Dean gets out of bed, pushing aside the blankets and making his way to the entryway to the bathroom. Jim is straining to keep Sam in the bathroom. The girl is pushing and biting like a wild animal trying to escape a cage. Her eyes are wide and frightened. Unlike anything Dean has ever seen. When she sees Dean her eyes go watery.

"Sammy." Dean moves the brown hair from her face. "You gotta take a bath."

Sam shakes her head.

* * *

"Hey Sammy," Dean greets one day. "I skipped physics to eat with you." Dean flashes a mouthful of white teeth. "Just like old times!"

Sam doesn't look at him, she eats her jelly sandwich in peace. Dean sighs. "Look, I'm sorry for— being an ass to you. But Damnit Sammy, I just—" Dean let's out a shuttery breath. "I'm sorry Sammy. I wanna be better. Can you let me?"

Sam still doesn't looks at him, but offers her brother one of the green marbles from her right pocket. Dean smiles when he sees it.

"Thanks Sam..." Sam doesn't show any recognition, she just keeps eating and staring at the orange leaves.

~~

Sam doesn't like that the leaves are dying, and turning brown and orange. Red is the absolute worst though. Her De is back, from his trip. Sam doesn't really know where he went cause he was still _here_, but he wasn't very _nice_. She knows that he won't stay long, but it's nice knowing he didn't totally disappear.

John is mad. Mostly about someone named Mary. Sam knows Mary was her mom, but she died when Sam was a baby. John is also yelling at Ellen on the phone because Bobby and her want to see Sam.

Life keeps going.

* * *

Sam stopped sucking on her fingers when she was six, but she recently relearned the habit of sucking on her thumb when she's scared or stressed. Dean _hates _it. She's doing it now, watching TV.

"Go play dolls Sam," Dean finally snaps after fifteen mintues of sucking. Sam thankfully complies.

John is at the shop, which isn't very unusual nowadays. Jim is down at the church, and Sammy is playing with her toys in front of the television. Dean is trying to take a nap on the couch, but the constant chatter of Sam keeps him awake. The girl isn't being too loud. It's more of Dean being to hyperaware of his surroundings.

"You have a pretty cunt."

Ice shoots up Dean's back. The sixteen year old opens his eyes and sees nothing, but Sam innocently playing. He may have misheard, on the cusp of sleep he might have imagined the words— Sam licks the doll between her legs.

"It's wet, and warm—"

"SAM!" Dean yells. The girl flinches, the yelling hurting her sensitive hearing. Her hazel eyes shift, avoiding eye contact. The overalls she is wearing are unclipped at the top and the doll she was licking is held close to her chest, naked. "What are you doing?" Dean demands.

"Playing," Sam answers methodically. Dean shakes his head, immediately. 

"What were you playing?"

"Dolls!" Sam answers, holding up the boy doll whose face is colored out in sharpie.

* * *

"I think my Dad's hurting my sister, dude."

Tobias Middlebrook. A werido, but nice to smoke with. Toby looks at Dean like he said something wrong, his caterpillar eyebrows furrow and create a 'U' shape when he's upset. His red eyes blink.

"Dude—" Toby exhales the smoke, coughing as he passes the rolled up weed to Dean. "Why? Isn't your sister like... six." Dean smiles, laughing hysterically for no reason.

"No, she's twelve. Pass the beans." Toby rolls his eyes giving the Jellybeans to Dean. "Thanks."

"Uhhuhuh."

A comforting silence settles between all the smoke.

Then, "I think he's molesting her." The words aren't as devastating as Dean thought they would be. The sentence slips out like word vomit, and relieves Dean the pressure of keeping it in. Toby doesn't react, seeming to ignore the other boy's confession. Dean watches Toby hoping he wasn't paying attention.

"Want the last dorito?"

* * *

Dean gets called to the counselor's office during Woodshop. Which absolutely blows cause he was about to get Rachel Valentine's number. The girl has no business in woodshop, but she's nice eye candy for sure.

The woman who hands him the orange pass has a wide grin with lipstick on her teeth. She's wearing these huge black pumps that make her tower over everything. "Counselor Harper has summoned you, Dean Winchester." She announces to the entire room like a cheery secretary and a prison gaurd.

"Alright—" Dean powers down his saw. "I'm going." He grabs the orange slip from the woman. She nods curtly, springy black hair extensions bouncing. 

"Do you want me to walk you?"

"No, I'm not five."

"Nonsense!" The woman refutes opening the door with too much force as Dean slung his backpack over his shoulder. "It's my pleasure, Dean."

"Lady..." Dean starts looking over the peculiar woman. She smiles bowing her head. "You're scary." The woman laughs, arching her head back and closing her eyes while letting out the godawful noise that was suppose to be laughter. 

"Funny!"

The woman only walks Dean half-way.

The counselors room is a dusty pink and smells like cheap paint. There are motivational posters everwhere and books. Dean looks around, not knowing where to go or sit. Suddenly a woman enters the pink clad room. She has a warm smile and curls of red that flow down her back like molten lava. She looks warm and friendly in her oversized sweater.

"Dean Winchester?" The woman asks.

Dean smiles boldly.

"Hey." He greets in a deeper octave than his usual voice. The woman seems to take a deep breath before speaking again.

"I'm Counselor Harper, if you will follow me, son." Son. Dean cringes at that. Harper seems to take note of that, even with no paper. Dean walks after her, she's short. Barely coming to Dean's chest even in heels. Inside the second room is a intense looking woman and man, and— Dean smiles.

Toby. Although, the boy looks sick in the face. Dean waves. Toby tries to return the favor, but the wave is weak.

"Dean, we're here because Toby came to me this morning and voiced concerns about the safety of your sister." Harper goes around the desk and sits, crossing her manicured hands over eachother. "We, just want what's best for you and your sister."

Dean looks at Toby and knows. The panic sets in first, and Harper can read on that. The redhead nods and the man closes the door.

"We've pulled Sam from school and sent her our way. Now I wanted to talk about—"

"No," Dean rasps, barely breathing now. "I take it back, I take it back. I was lying."

"Dean," Harper warns. "You made serious allegations toward you father and a classmate took those allegations seriously and presented them to us. We are doing our job to protect you—"

"_Protect_ me?" Dean laughs, turning toward Toby. "You're an ass."

"Dean, you were talking about molestation dude I couldn't just ignore it!"

"You could have, I was high! I'm going to kick your ass Tobias, just you wait. You me after school I'm gonna globber you."

Harper puts up a calm hand. Her face is stoic. "Dean you will not be fighting Toby. He did the right thing."

"According to you."

Harper only smiles. "I get that you're angry, scared, but I know you care about your sister." Dean softens at that. Harper pushes away from the desk, standing up. "We need you to cooperate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all kudos and comments. 
> 
> I know, A DEAN chapter bummer. Next chapter will most likely be a Sammy chapter.
> 
> I also got a tumblr?! (Peterfuckingenglert) stop by, say hi.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Good, Sam. Has your father ever hurt you?"
> 
> The girl is cautious this time about answering. Her face grows grim. "Sometimes. With the belt." Dr.Carlen shakes his head, making a note of that for a later time.

Sam goes to Language Arts everyday after lunch, but today it's different. Her teacher, Miss Teresa, smiles as Sam walks into the classroom. Miss Teresa doesn't hand Sam her daily prompt, but instead directs Sam to a seperate area of the classroom. One fairly more private.

"Samantha, the office called and wants you to go down there." Sam clutches the straps to her bag. Although Miss Teresa is nice Sam looks away from her sunny face. The teacher smiles politely bending down ever so slightly to catch the girl's eyes. "Sam? Did you hear me?"

"Yes," Sam answers.

"Do you want someone to take you?"

"No."

* * *

The office is a bright open space that everyone can see into from the main hallway. The chairs are green and made of this cheap plastic material. A Jurasstic-age receptionist at the front desk offers Sam candy. Sam doesn't take it. The woman is old and frail, and when she smiles her teeth are crooked in the front. 

Sam waits approximately twenty-one minutes before someone shows up.

The woman who arrives in the office is wearing a black suit. She has kind eyes and a badge. The man who comes in with her is standing at the door, he looks mean. Sam peers away, hiding behind her lengthy hair. Embarrassed for having caught the woman's eye.

"Hi Sam, I'm detective Hane this is my partner detective Holmes." The woman shrugs over her shoulder at the stone faced man. He has a solid figure. Bigger than Jim and Dean, but smaller than John. Sam doesn't like him. "We want you to come with us." Thr woman offers her hand, but Sam shrinks away.

Sam isn't suppose to go with strangers. Jim taught her that. "I can't," Sam whispers barely audible. She avoids detective Hane's eyes. The woman frowns, upset with Sam's answer. She sits next to Sam in the plastic green chair.

"Yes, you can. You need to, we need to talk about your father, John."

"John?" Sam looks up at the mention of her fathers name. Detective Hane and Holms share a look. Sam plays with the end of her skirt. Detectives are on TV, they help people when things go wrong. "Is John ok?" She mutters in a meek voice.

"Yes," Hane answers. "But we need you to come talk to some people. Is that okay?"

Sam nods.

* * *

"Has Sam had any behavioral issues as of late? Any bedwetting or acting out?" The man— Dr.Carlen stares inquisitively at Dean. The man is middle-aged and chubby, but not fat. He's also well built for a shrink. Rounded glasses perched on the bridge of his nose observing brown eyes hidden behind them. The teen shrugs uncommittedly, rubbing his nose. 

"Sammy hasn't wet the bed in months. The only changes I've noticed is she doesn't like baths and she's been mutilating her dolls and saying stuff to em."

Dr. Carlen writes something down. "What kind of things?"

Dean shrugs again, leaning back in his chair defenselessly. "I don't know, Doc. Sex things? Things I haven't heard her say, _ever_. She was talking about...Stuff." Dean cringes. 

"Has your father ever made sexual advances toward you, Dean?" Dr.Carlen is searching for something on Dean's face. Dean gags, slamming his feet down on the ground. His once lazy and calm demeanor now erect and alert.

"No! That's sick!" Dean protests. Dr.Carlen nods curtly. Taking off his glasses he tucks them into his pocket and rises from his seat.

"Alright. I think we're done here Dean. We can go."

Dr.Carlen opens the door, letting Dean out of the seperated area. 

Sam is waiting in the other area of the police station. She has a choclate milk in her hands. Her hazel eyes trek over the room, but stop on Dean. Dean can't breathe for a second. Sam waves apprehensively at her brother. He doesn't wave back.

~~

Dr.Carlen isn't a medical doctor. Sam finds out he's a psychologist. That means he's a mind doctor.

"Hi Samantha, I find this area better for conversation."

The man sits Sam down in the kids area of the station. Sam likes this area more. It has more green. The man smiles at Sam. He has dimples like John.

"Where's John?" Sam asks the man. Dr.Carlen takes out a notepad, the same one from his earlier interview with Dean Winchester. He opens to a blank page and writes **_Samantha Winchester _**at the top of it. When he looks back up at Sam she is sucking her thumb. His smile strains itself over perfectly white teeth.

An oral fixation. It could be caused by alot of things. A need for a mother, or a sign of abuse. Dr.Carlen isn't really that concerned with her thumb sucking.

"He's fine. We're here to talk about you and him, actually. Do you like your dad Sam?" The girl fidgets, but nods enthusiastically.

"He's the best John ever. He has pretty eyes and he's tall and he's very nice and smart."

Dr.Carlen doesn't let the unrealistically glowing terms about her father slip past him, but he continues the evaluation.

"Good, Sam. Has your father ever hurt you?"

The girl is cautious this time about answering. Her face grows grim. "Sometimes. With the belt." Dr.Carlen shakes his head, making a note of that for a later time. The girl stares blankly at the wall, her hands tap a rhythm on the desk between them.

"Do you know what Genitals are, Sam?"

"Yes." Sam points down between her legs, shyly. Dr. Carlen nods.

"Very Good. Now, has your father ever made you touch him on his genitals or tried to touch you on your genitals?" Sam shakes her head but Dr.Carlen won't take that as an answer.

"I need a verbal answer, Sam."

"No." Her voice is quiet, lower than expected, but still prevalent.

"Has he ever taken pictures of you naked?"

Sam's hazel eyes glimmer with tears. She doesn't want to be here. Dr.Carlen looks up from his paper and at Sam, who avoids his cold eyes.

"Sam, answer the question."

"No...I want to go home now." Sam squirms in her chair, the intensity of Dr.Carlen stare is making her uncomfortable. The man sighs.

"You can't go home. Not yet Sam."

The girl brusts into tears. "You're mean!" The girl yells, shutting the man out. "I want John! I want Jim!"

The man shakes his head. Sam hates this man. He stares at Sam like she's a small, stupid thing when Sam isn't a small, stupid thing.

She's just Sam.

* * *

"I'm not sure if the girl has been abused." Dr.Carlen explains to the detectives. "Given her undoubted devotion to the man, it's possible she's been groomed, but I can't be sure with so manh other factors playing a role with her psychology."

"Damnit." Detective Hane hisses. "She's such a sweet girl, she doesn't deserve to be subjected to an examination, but it seems we have no other choice." Holmes blinks, processing the information. Slowly he regains his thoughts.

"I'll go talk to Jim and Dean about a mandatory vaginal examination and pelvic X-ray."

Holmes watches the girl cry to the pastor and her older brother. They both look so grim, but they also looked guilty as if hiding something. Holmes walks up to the duo, his eyes untrusting of the two.

* * *

The hospital smells sterile.

Detective Hane wants to hold Sam's hand as they walk down the hallway, but Sam snatches her hand away from the woman. This makes Detective Hane sad, Sam can tell.

The long hallway ends with a door. The woman at the end of the hall smiles warmly. She's wearing a white coat and smells of rosewater. Women were usually too much for Sam, they wore too much scent masking perfume and squealed really loud when they got excited. Women were not at all like Jim's or John's. But this one is okay.

"Hey Sam, I'm Dr.Ellis." The woman pauses. "Come right over into this room, this will be quick as long as you are relaxed and calm."

~~

Sam was not relaxed and calm, as soon as the touching happened she almost right hooked Dr.Ellis. After that display she is given a sedative.

* * *

John arrives at the station narrowly missing Sam's escort to the hospital. The man is panting like he ran a marathon. Jim is the first one he sees. He runs to the man, hazel eyes quivering in anticipation. "Jim, is everything okay?" The man turns toward his friend, grimly.

"John—" The man is cut off by detective Holmes who comes up from behind John and pats him on the back. John tenses.

"You must be the father, John Winchester."

John looks lost, he smiles wearily. "What's going on here?" Detective Holmes smiles this time.

"How long you've been abusing your children John." John whips around and slugs the detective right in his jaw. The man spits blood out joyously. John would kick him in his stomach next, but a few officers grab the grisly bear of a man and manage to subdue him.

"Take him to interrogation room one, we're just gonna have a friendly chat about Samantha."

The professional looking man glides his eyes between Jim and Dean. Not settling on one of the two. He carries himself formally, warm but still respectfully distant. The man's face offers a brightness to the otherwise dull situation. It isn't hard to tell why he's here. A social worker, not good at all.

Jim tries to smile back at the man, but could only think of Sam and what Bobby said years ago about what he suspected was happening between the father and daughter duo.

"Hello, I know this is hard, but we need to talk about separating Sam from her father while this investigation is underway— I would encourage Sam move to a residence with a prominent female presence."

Jim's mouth goes dry. Dean holds back a sob of protest.

"What?" Dean asks incredulously. He did this. Sam was going to be taken away because he was fucking stupid. "Sammy doesn't have to leave us." Dean slyly smiles. His charm doesn't stick though. It's just a stupid mistake! She can stay!" The man's face dulls at the teenagers childish argument.

"We can't risk harm to Samantha while living under the same roof as her father."

"Are you dense? She's fine! We're fine! Just stop budding in!" Dean shouts out his face is taut with anger. His hands curl into fists, trembling with uncontrolled pain and fear.

"Dean." Jim starts, watching the boy's demeanor devolve. The boy's tremors don't stop, they invade his body like a parasite.

"She can't leave. She needs us, she's too different from other kids she needs care that noone else can give—"

"Dean. Perhaps it is best if Sam does leave us for a while and go live somewhere else. I know a great friend who could take her in and wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. Okay? It's not _forever_, just for _now. In time of uncertainty._"

Dean solemnly agrees.

* * *

"I'll kick your ass Winchester!" Bobby Singers snaps out from the passenger seat of the car idly parked outside the Winchester-Murphy household. Dean swallows watching as Ellen barks at Bobby to "quiet up" leaning on the roof of the beaten up car with a solid expression on her face.

John spits. "I didn't do anything!" The man hisses. Bobby opens the door to the rickety old car and grits his teeth, painfully. The man pokes John in his chest, sizing the oldest Winchester hunter up like he's always done.

The social worker shakes her head.

Jim comes downstairs will Sam, but stops watching the men as if one would pull out a shotgun and shoot the other straight up the ass. Samantha holds the straps to her backpack looking only mildly fazed by the fighting.

When John sees Sam he turns to her, wanting nothing more than to make this go away. To hug his daughter and tell her it's okay, even if she didn't understand what was happening. "Sam—"

"No communication until this is sorted out Mr. Winchester." The social worker flashes the man a pearly smile, filled with a _"fuck you" _somewhere in there.

Bobby doesn't shoot John in the ass, but does go in for a hit. The fight is broken up as soon as it starts and Ellen has to drag Bobby back into the passenger seat of the car.

Sam watches her world unfold, with a feat settling in her stomach as a darkness looms at the forefront of her mind, and that darkness has claws and yellow eyes.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like always this kicked my ass. Ooooooh yellow eyes huh? 😏 wonder what's gonna happen.
> 
> Kudos and Comments are all appreciated
> 
> Yo, holler at me on tumblr (https//peterfuckingenglert)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm sorry...I-I tried to stop it," Luke cries out. His pretty  
face soft with tears. "Did—did it hurt you? I'm so sorry."

Sam Winchester was a peculiar girl.

The first time Ellen met her feels like years ago. She wasn't sure what to make of the lanky young child hiding behind her father's rugged figure. Yet, Bobby absolutely adored the girl. Ellen was sure he would do just about anything to see her smile. 

The girl doesn't step into the roadhouse. At least not right away. She lingers in the doorway, until Bobby gives her an affirming push into the bar. 

Jo emerges from the back. Startling Samantha. She wipes gun oil off her hands off and onto a handheld towel. "Hey, Mom." The girl greets. Her eyes drift to Sam who fidgets with the collar of her shirt. "Oh. Hey, Sam right?" Jo reaches her hand out, but Sam pulls away from the girl, afraid of the oil on her. Ellen gives her daughter a sparing look. 

"Sorry," Jo apologizes openly. "I forget she's...ya'know." Jo trails off vaguely. The girl backs up, awkwardly. "I'm just going to...go."

Bobby sighs. "I'll stay for a few days, but then I have to go back to Sioux Falls. You don't have to keep Sam here, I can take her—"

"Ah, shush Singer she's fine."

The man smiles at Ellen. This woman was everything. 

* * *

Sam doesn't talk for days after Bobby leaves. Ellen doesn't really know how to ease the girl into conversation so she clams up. Jo is nosy about the situation. 

"So...Did something happen to uncle John. Is that why Sam is living with us?" Jo asks one day while they are in the back washing dishes. Jo must notice how oddly tight lipped her mother is, because she asks again. 

"John is fine! He's just— they aren't allowed to be near eachother right now." Jo opens her mouth to protest, but her mother stops her. "Now Joanna-beth I ain't trying to play twenty questions with you right now." Ellen throws her rag in the sink leaving her daughter to finish up.

The roadhouse is full. Hunters come and go. Drunken, as they try to spur on fights that Ellen breaks up easily. Jo does her homework over the counter while helping Ellen bustle out drinks.

Richie and his son Luke are just about regulars. Luke is not of drinking age yet, nineteen or so, but that doesn't stop the boy. He has a crooked smile and handsom features. Most young female patrons flock to the man as if he were Jesus. Even her Jo seemed to have a sort of teen infatuation with the boy. 

"Hello, Ma'am," Luke greets. Already nursing a whiskey in his left hand when he leans against the counter. Jo is the first one to look up. Her freckled face becoming a beacon of red. Ellen barely hears him approach the empty bar, but when she does the woman looks up alarmed. She smiles bright at the young man.

"Hey Luke. Your Pa not with you?"

The boy laughs. "Y'know dad, always on the hunt. He's somewhere down in Kansas chasing somethin' nasty." Luke licks his lips, swinging the tip of the bottle into his mouth. 

"Well—"

"Ellen." 

The woman is cut off by a shy voice. Sam stands by the back door, in her blue, wornover pajamas. It's the first time Ellen has heard the girl speak since she arrived at the Roadhouse. 

"There's throw up...In bed." She alerts the woman, her hazel eyes downcasted. Ellen immediately turns to Jo. The girl groans. She brushes past Sam, flashing a longing look toward Luke. 

Luke stares at Sam and smiles, waving at the girl. She doesn't wave back. 

~~~

Dean vists later in the month with Pastor Jim, and John. It's the happiest Ellen has ever since the girl. She shows both of them her drawings and her books, dramatically switching between her favorite topics. It's a salve over Ellen's heart. 

John lingers near the door, hands in his pockets waiting to leave. Sam doesn't let him stand alone for long. She drags the man to the center of the room and gives him a hug. The social worker shakes her head at the interaction, but doesn't break it up. "Sammy," The man whispers, heartbroken.

"John!" Sam giggles. "Home?" John peels Sam off of him. The girl looks hurt by this. 

"You can't come back yet Samantha." 

Sam cries. It takes hours for Ellen to soothe her. Sam just wants to go home

* * *

Sam likes the roadhouse. It's dark and mostly quiet. Jo talks really loud though, and grits her teeth when something excites her in particular. Sam doesn't like that. 

Sam dislikes most of the men and women that occupy the bar. It's late into the night, the bar is mostly empty except for Luke. 

Luke is the worst. He tries talking to Sam like she's stupid. His eyes are condescending, as if the world belongs to him and only him. Sam goes upstairs to get ready for bed. She doesn't know how to put the clothes on so Ellen has to help her with that, but she can brush her teeth and wash her face. 

Luke corners Sam upstairs. His smile waning and violent. 

"Hey." He greets, childishly talking down to the girl. Sam pulls away from him, but he grabs her hand. Sam wants to scream at the skin contact, but Luke covers her mouth. She tries to bite the man, but he hits her too hard and her vision goes dizzy. 

He drags her to the bathroom locking the door. Sam sobs, kicking out at the man. He only smiles. 

"Hi, your name is Samantha, right?" The man unbuckles his belt. His blue eyes glinted maliciously in the dark. "We only talked once, but I saw the way you looked at me." He leans down caressing the girl's cheek. Licking at it like it was vanilla. 

Sam screams, but the man grabs her.

"Shhhh, babygirl. I ain't gonna hurt you. You're too sweet to be hurtin. I'm just gonna have a looksee." Luke, rides the girl's skirt up until standard, dull blue panties were showing. He licks a stripe along the middle of the panties toward the top. "Hm, you wet Sam? Huh?" Luke peels the blue underwear off the girl, she shakes. 

"Stop," Sam voices, kicking at Luke again. His touches feel like knives. 

"Aw. You embarrassed sweet cheeks? That's alright I betcha— oooh you are pretty down here." The man kisses Sam's lips tenderly, it stung like bees. Sam hates bees. "Now lemme see." The man spread the girls legs, and smiles at her, before leaning down and pressing a tentative kiss on her sex. Luke slides his tongue into her. Sam can feel her tummy doing jumping jacks. 

Sam screeches, but the man silences her with another kiss. His fingers glide between them and slip into Sam. The girl gasps.

"You're really tight." The man works another finger into her, and Sam sobs as thighs shake. "I heard from Ellen that you let your daddy fuck you, sweetheart is that true?" The man chuckles. "Well, you don't have to answer that. I would have loved to see it, though. I bet he fucked you hard. Couldn't wait to sink his fat cock into your tiny cunt huh? Did it hurt Sammy? I bet it hurt, the first time always does." 

The man's eyes turn yellow, and Sam hates it, she hates it. She screams louder, but can't produce any sound. 

"You were going to be the greatest of my special children Sammy, and then this world got fucked over by that idiot named God." Luke rips out his fingers and Sam gasps. "You were never meant to be like this little Sammy Winchester." The man licks Sam again, the girl is terrified. 

"Remember that and blame God, kid. Say hi to your daddy for me." 

The man opens his mouth and black smoke bubbles forward and leaves from the cracks in the bathroom. Luke falls to the floor gagging on air. Sam pulls away from him. Monster. That was a monster. 

Sam clamps her hands over her ears, afraid. 

"I'm sorry...I-I tried to stop it," Luke cries out. His pretty face soft with tears. "Did—did it hurt you? I'm so sorry."

Sam doesn't answer.

Luke leaves, presumably to get Ellen. The woman comes rushing up the stairs. Her face is pale in shock. "Samantha?" The woman approaches the girl, slowly at first. "What happened? Can you tell me, please?"

Sam looks up, her face devastated. "Yellow eyes. It was a monster with yellow eyes." 

That's all Sam says for the rest of the night. 

* * *

Ellen calls Bobby first, knowing he would be the most reasonable to call. 

It's John she has to worry about. 

Luke is just as traumatized, he's in shock, but keeps asking about Sam. Worried about the girl, what he did to her against his own will. Jo looks to the broken man, as if he was a bomb waiting to go off. Ellen curls her finger around the phone cord waiting for John to pick up the damn phone. 

"Hello?" John sounds like he just woke up from a long nap. Ellen feels her throat seize up. 

"Um, John this is Ellen. Something happened to Sam. You should come to the Roadhouse so we can talk about a certain yellow canary."

There is silence on the other end of the phone line. It's so thick, Ellen feels suffocated by it. 

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

~~~

John brings Dean with him.

It's well into the morning and Sam is finally asleep (with the help of Bobby) Luke is still at the Roadhouse. He's trying to give a scrambled accounting of the incident. Ellen thanks the boy for his help, bot being able to stomach much more of what happened. The headlights of the impala light up the bar like Christmas day. 

Ellen opens the door for the men. Dean gives her a nod of appreciation. John looks completely focused, and hardened like a soldier. Bobby is on the other side of the bar, he stares at John Winchester with discomfort.

"Is she okay?" He asks first, then pauses. "What happened, Ellen?"

The woman sighs, gesturing toward Luke. 

"Richie's boy?" John asks in shock. The last time he saw Luke the boy was only thirteen. A loud mouth boy, but a great hunting partner. 

"I was downstairs, I left for a second when I came back Luke was gone." Ellen explains. "Luke came down seven minutes or so later, pants halfway down, screaming about demonic possession and hurting Sam." 

Dean shoots a uncanny glare at Luke. "It was the same thing that killed mom. wasn't it?"

"Sam said the monster had yellow eyes," Luke replies. "I remember, some of the conversation that demon had with her. He told her that she was the greatest of his special children, but god fucked up and she wasn't meant to be the way she is..." Luke shivers. 

"Special children?" John's eyes are wild. Dean can see the hate in the man's eyes. That was the same look that the man had all those years ago. Before they lived with Jim. When Dean had to take care of Sammy in motel rooms while their father went hunting.

Dean feels so goddamn sick. 

"Dad. Sammy isn't bad—" Dean places a hand on his father's shoulder, but he shrugs his son off.

"But-m—"

"No buts Dad! Sammy is Sammy! She's not evil. She can't be. The only evil here was the yellow eyed bastard." John turns to Ellen callously. 

"How could you let this happen."

"Excuse me, Winchester?" The woman shakes her head. "I want you to choose your next words very carefully." She threatens. "I took your daughter in after you were..." Ellen bites her tongue. John steps up toward the woman, invading her space.

"I what, Ellen? I would never hurt my baby."

Bobby grabs the gun from behind the bar and points it right at the man. 

"I suggest you take a couple steps back John." John growls low in his throat. 

"Try it. Shoot me Singer, you miss I'm knocking your lights out."

Dean throws himself infront of his father. 

"We can't start fighting eachother. Not now. That's what the demon bastard wants! Sammy is hurting. She's confused and doesn't know what happened!" Dean tries to rationalize, but Bobby only cocks the gun. 

"Move outta the way you Idjit I'm trying to shoot your daddy in his ass."

Dean groans. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter :P (day twenty eight in quarantine still haven't written, but when I do they gonna be surprised.)


End file.
